


Cinnamon Bourbon

by forthosewhohavefallenexceptionally



Series: boy friends [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Anal Sex, Balcony Sex, Blowjobs, Hand Jobs, Multi, Switches, no way michael wouldnt just suck his dick, theyre fucking switches, vanilla smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-04-26 20:11:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14409720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthosewhohavefallenexceptionally/pseuds/forthosewhohavefallenexceptionally
Summary: That weird ass crack fic has a sequel thats about to get more angsty and cracky now from some actual p.o.v. Dad is back at it again with this fuking fic.Follow me on twitter to see the writing process and all my internal dialogue. @angstfather





	1. Preface: San Francisco (Michael)

A sunrise is beautiful by itself. But, when you put a pair of oceanic blue eyes and a shirtless ex-male stripper in the mix, it seems, simply more worthwhile. 

“Stop thinking so hard.” he says gently. He’s dangling his smooth legs off the side of our balcony. “It’s annoying and distracting me from such a beautiful sight. He presses himself to my side, eyes on my lips. 

“We’re not fucking on this balcony. The dressing room in Boise was enough for me. I’m getting too old.” Jeremy laughs deeply at my statement, eyes light. 

“Not old, wise.” He runs his fingers through my hair, catching himself on some seamless tangles. A sloppy kiss was delivered to my parted lips. “There’s a difference, Michael.” 

“After spending the last year putting up with you, It’d be a crime if I didn’t earn some grey hairs.” His head rests on my shoulder as he lets out a gentle snort. 

“I must be stealing your virility. Like an incubus.” There was no denying the fact that he made me feel older, more mature. In these moments, I was more willing to fight for our future, our love, than any moment before. The long hours posing for lifestyle dictators and starring in movies I could care a rat’s ass about so we could live the life I wanted for us. The life Jeremy agreed to.

We had taken my truck, motorcycle loaded into the back. My things placed into a storage unit , and Jeremy’s left at his Dad’s house. Motels, hotels, cabins, and tents were all temporary homes of ours. I had considered buying a camper. But, it didn’t seem logical until after we had explored Europe and beyond. 

I pulled him into my lap, his legs moving to behind my waist. “Where are we going next, Jerebear?” I rested my head against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Anywhere you want.” 

“Paris.” he stated simply, hands brushing through my hair. 

“You have to be at least level thirteen to access Paris, France.” he scoffed, pulling on my hair gently. 

“You said anywhere.”

“In a little parenthesis it states ‘everywhere except Paris.’ Sorry, I don’t make the rules.” I gave him a small nip on the shoulder, just enough to leave small crescents where my teeth had grazed his skin. 

“Yes you do.” he murmurs gently. “Then, let's go to England.” 

“Oh, so you won’t look so pale in comparison to the rest of the populace.” 

Jeremy shot me a look. “Harhar asshole.” I kissed his pouty lips, and caught his bottom lip in between my teeth. “Are you trying to fuck me on this balcony, Mr. Mell?” my breath caught in my throat, and I pinned him against the railing. 

“Only if you ask nicely, and use proper grammar.” and we were lost in the boughs of lust and love, indulging in each other, and almost nearly getting arrested for fucking on a balcony. 


	2. White Oak, Maryland: Jeremy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do I have a constant picture of Channing Tatum pulled up while I write? The world will never know. 
> 
> Yall asked for some more descriptive smut and I guess I delivered yall sinners. 
> 
> I'm maybe writing a prison au fic for ripped michael mell and Jeremy as like a side fic to this (it's going to be comedic). If you wanna see that tell me.
> 
> Also someone drew fanart?? They're amazing, go check them out @tyromeow on tumblr!

“When you said romantic getaway, I didn’t exactly envision this.” The small bustling town eluded much to me. Despite being rich in history, it wasn’t noticeable to the world view. Michael wriggled his threaded eyebrows and flopped down on the hotel bed. 

“Come here, Heere.” my feet shuffled towards him, eyes never leaving his half clothed form. My fingers traced the scar on Michael’s stomach and he shivered.

“And do what?” 

“Kiss me.” his words were husky and breathed into my own lips. And I do. It’s full of passion and ferocity, until he accidentally burps and I fall to the ground disgusted, shooting him a glace. He cannot stop laughing, holding his stomach and trying to catch his breath.

“You’re disgusting.” I wrinkled my nose, and went to the counter, plopping a few pretzels in my mouth as he continued his hysterics. “Literally die.”

“Jerebear, I’m sorry.” he made grabby hands, and pouted. And with every ounce in my being I knew that I could never take him seriously. His freshly bleached hair fell in his face, creating a blonde halo, and the date of our trip tattooed across his ribs. There was a dash next to it, save for our ending date. I had a matching one in the same place. We had gotten them together, nearly two months prior in Chicago when Michael had picked up a small acting part. The extra spurge of cash granted us another year if we continued our frugal behavior, six months if we didn’t. 

“You know I love you right?” his features softened, eyes falling closed a bit. 

“I love you too.” Michael gestured me forward, and I followed with caution. “Every morning I think I’m going to wake up and be back in California with way too many bottles of vodka emptied on the floor, without you. Because how could the great Jeremy Heere ever love Michael Mell the stoner?” 

“I always have.” I knelt at the edge of the bed, our faces comfortably a few inches apart. “Even when I didn’t think that it was the dick sucking kind of love, I still loved you.” Michael laughed, winded. 

“I don’t only love you when you suck my dick.” 

“Though you do love that too.” Michael grabbed my chin, gazing deeply at me. 

“How about I suck yours to show you just how much I love you?” I nodded gently, grasping the edge of the bed to stand up. The elastic of my sweatpants was pulled down to the mid way point, his gentle kisses pressing to the soft flesh of my inner thigh. Despite my half hardness that he had installed as his fingers trailed me, I ached. 

“Touch me.” it hushed. He gazed up at me with hazy eyes. His lips met the tip of my cock with a gentle kiss. I sucked in a hiss at the softness of his lips, bringing me to full attention. He parted the plumpness of them, wrapping them around my throbbing member. It’s a dream-like state, with his teeth just barely grazing the underside of me. 

One of my shaky hands tangle themselves into his bleached locks as his eyes stay locked on mine. A vibration from his throat causes my hips to buck forward. He gags a little at the slight intrusion and I instantly pull back. 

“Mike, are you ok-” he licks his lips, his mouth disconnecting from the tip with a pop. 

“I fucked Channing Tatum, you think a little choking is going to stop me from deep throating you? I’ve sucked your dick many times before.” 

“I know, I just want to check if you’re okay?” he nods, and his lips return to my cock, his left hand pumping me as he slowly lowers himself onto it. Deep, guttural moans escape me as I try my hardest to still the movement of my hips. And with a slight caress to my hardened nipples with his right hand, I’m coming thick and hot down his throat. 

 

He swallows before pulling me down for a kiss, and pulling my joggers back over my spasming hips. Concerned, my hand rubs his back. “Baby, are you okay?” he smiles, and nods. 

“Hope that made up for me burping in your mouth.”

“Yeah.” 

I lay pressed against his back, hand lazily stroking his hardened member as some stupid rom com plays in the background. “Cum for me.” he gasps at my words, rocking into my touch. I press heated kisses to his neck, leaving hickies in my wake. Accelerating my pace, he cums into palm of my hand, closing his eyes in the aftershock. “I love you.” I say again. And one of these times, I hope he believes me. 


	3. Unknown: Narrator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas venting through Michael Mell again? More likely then you think.   
> Also, if you guys want the link to the discord server I made for this so we can talk or you guys can chat or whatever, just lemme know in the comments

Consciously, Michael knows there’s nothing wrong. That he’s in bed with Jeremy and that everything is okay, and everything will be okay. But it’s the thundering in his head, and the screaming that throws him back there. 

He’s sitting in his old living room, hands gripping themselves tight enough to hurt. “This isn’t good.” A woman, and a man sit chatting with each other, both shooting him sideways glances. “Please, anywhere but here.” it’s a prayer. It always is. 

“Michael.” her voice is stern, and her eyes bore into him. 

“Yeah, mom?” 

“Your stepfather tells me that you-” What Michael is supposedly done is blurred and jumbled as it comes from her mouth. It’s always something different, but under the same concept. “You’re lazy, and ungrateful. You know that right.” his lips stay shut. He can’t bring himself to speak. There’s no point. 

“You’re an inbred piece of shit. I hope you know that.” the man pipes up. “Look at your high cheekbones and hair. Disgusting. No wonder he’s lazy. He deserves to die.” the woman sucks in a breath, words on the tip of her tongue. But she holds them. 

It’s her cheekbones he has. 

“God, you’re fat too. Look at you. No wonder that Heere kid won’t fuck you.” Michael clenches his jaw, glancing at the protruding gut and enlarged masculine breasts this man has. It’s a bitter laugh that escapes him. “What’re you laughing at, fag?” 

“You. And her. And this shitty situation.” she crinkles her nose. 

“Then leave if you’re so miserable.” The room darkens and images of the night with Jeremy play on the walls. The rejection, the leaving. Michael bites back the biles in his throat. 

“I will.” 

The room fades around him, and he’s free floating. The white fades to streets, and people in love. And Jeremy’s there, with his rosebud cheeks and kiss swollen lips. “Michael.” he says gently. Michael’s heart swells, and the butterflies feel as though he might throw up. It’s Paris. 

Fucking Paris. 

“Jeremy.” the name is strained. 

“Michael.” he says gently with a smile, offering a hand. 

“Will you-” they appear behind Jeremy, hands on his shoulders, whispering in his ears. 

“Never, Michael. You’re unlovable.” 

Unlovable

U n l o v a b l e 

U      n l      o v a      b l e 

 


	4. White Oak, Maryland: Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey look 2 chapters in a day and they're angsty.   
> It's summer and I feel like I need to be productive.

There are a few moments where the darkness is welcoming, where I believe I’m alone in bed, far away from physical touch. But then Jeremy rolls over, and I find myself shooting up from the bed, back pressed against the hotel room wall. He sits up slowly, and rubs his eyes. His face is flushed with sleep, and the innocence of disorientation. 

“I’ll be back in a few, I just need a moment.” he nods, but pulls back the covers anyways and crawls onto the floor with me. He offers a hand up in surrender as he slips onto the floor. A silent promise he won’t touch me. 

“Nightmare again?” a yawn escapes him. We got back pretty late last night, mixed drinks and laughter trailing behind us. 

“Mhm.” I murmur, bringing my knees up to my chest. “It’s hard to explain.” 

“I’m here if you want to talk. Or I can run to the convenience store if you want ice cream and coffee.” I want him. I want to initiate the touch. I don’t want him to touch me. 

“Do you love me?” 

“More than anything.” 

“Promise me.” 

“I’d die for you in a heartbeat, Michael. I promise you when I say that I could never love anyone as much as I love you.” 

“It was a dream about my parents. About-” my voice falters. 

“You’re nothing that they say you are.” Jeremy reassures. “You are so much more. You’ve experienced so much. And if we ever decide to have kids one day, then you’re going to be a great father.” my cheeks flush crimson, and my eyes widen. 

“You want to have kids with me?” Jeremy laughs, and runs a shaky hand through his hair. He avoids eye contact with me. 

“Yeah, I wanna finish these travels and marry you, and raise kids and love you for the rest of eternity. I want you, Michael Mell. Not Christine. Not anyone but you.” My sobs caught in my throat. 

“You don’t mind that we can’t have biological children?” 

“We can always see if someone will surrogate for us if you want biological children. But I’m just as fine with adopted children as biological. I want a family with you.” 

“Why?” tears free fell down my face. “Why me? Why not anyone else in that town or in any town? You could have anyone in the world. Why me?” He moved himself to be sitting directly in front of me, cross legged. 

“Want to know how much I love you?” a nod barely graces me. “When I’m with you, my whole body feels like it’s on fire. Even after almost two years of being on the road. My whole body tingles when you touch me, my brain turns to mush when you shower me in compliments or tell me you love me. Whenever I think about my future, you’re there. You’re holding my hand at our wedding or our child or you’re just smiling at me, sitting in some stupid rocking chairs waiting for our inevitable death. I’m going to die in your arms, Michael Mell. I want to spend the entirety of the rest of my life with you. Because with how much love and affection you’ve given me for 20 years, I owe it to you to completely smother you in affection when it’s due.” 

He’s in my arms, our lips mingling together, mixed with my tears. 

And we’re touching. 

I love him.

He loves me. 


End file.
